SEA STUFF
Now I’m a soldier, so I ain’tNo hand at art, but say,There’s things at sea I’d like to paintBefore I’m tucked away.A cruiser on the sunrise track,Alert to find the morn,With every funnel belching blackInto the red, gold dawn;A flock o’ transports, crazy lined,On blue-green waves advance,That sink their bows, all spray an’ dewed,Hellbootin’ it for France;A manned gun peerin’ out to portAs evenin’ shadows close;Beyond, a ship slipped up an’ caughtAgainst a cloud o’ rose;A crow’s nest loomin’ from belowAcross the Milk Way’s bars,Just like a cradle rockin’ slow,An’ sung to by the stars.No, I can’t paint the things I’ve seenWhile we were passin’ by,But, all the same, they sure have beenWorth lookin’ at, say I.Steuart M. Emery, Pvt., M.P.
Now I’m a soldier, so I ain’tNo hand at art, but say,There’s things at sea I’d like to paintBefore I’m tucked away.A cruiser on the sunrise track,Alert to find the morn,With every funnel belching blackInto the red, gold dawn;A flock o’ transports, crazy lined,On blue-green waves advance,That sink their bows, all spray an’ dewed,Hellbootin’ it for France;A manned gun peerin’ out to portAs evenin’ shadows close;Beyond, a ship slipped up an’ caughtAgainst a cloud o’ rose;A crow’s nest loomin’ from belowAcross the Milk Way’s bars,Just like a cradle rockin’ slow,An’ sung to by the stars.No, I can’t paint the things I’ve seenWhile we were passin’ by,But, all the same, they sure have beenWorth lookin’ at, say I.Steuart M. Emery, Pvt., M.P.
Now I’m a soldier, so I ain’tNo hand at art, but say,There’s things at sea I’d like to paintBefore I’m tucked away.
Now I’m a soldier, so I ain’t
No hand at art, but say,
There’s things at sea I’d like to paint
Before I’m tucked away.
A cruiser on the sunrise track,Alert to find the morn,With every funnel belching blackInto the red, gold dawn;
A cruiser on the sunrise track,
Alert to find the morn,
With every funnel belching black
Into the red, gold dawn;
A flock o’ transports, crazy lined,On blue-green waves advance,That sink their bows, all spray an’ dewed,Hellbootin’ it for France;
A flock o’ transports, crazy lined,
On blue-green waves advance,
That sink their bows, all spray an’ dewed,
Hellbootin’ it for France;
A manned gun peerin’ out to portAs evenin’ shadows close;Beyond, a ship slipped up an’ caughtAgainst a cloud o’ rose;
A manned gun peerin’ out to port
As evenin’ shadows close;
Beyond, a ship slipped up an’ caught
Against a cloud o’ rose;
A crow’s nest loomin’ from belowAcross the Milk Way’s bars,Just like a cradle rockin’ slow,An’ sung to by the stars.
A crow’s nest loomin’ from below
Across the Milk Way’s bars,
Just like a cradle rockin’ slow,
An’ sung to by the stars.
No, I can’t paint the things I’ve seenWhile we were passin’ by,But, all the same, they sure have beenWorth lookin’ at, say I.Steuart M. Emery, Pvt., M.P.
No, I can’t paint the things I’ve seen
While we were passin’ by,
But, all the same, they sure have been
Worth lookin’ at, say I.
Steuart M. Emery, Pvt., M.P.